A Fighter's Spirit
by Kawaii Youko
Summary: Some choices aren't so easily made in life; betrayl, guilt and desperation play a large role in decisions. Is it possible to go against everything you stand for, and still call yourself a man? (Angst - Tragedy; COMPLETED; Chapters 1-7)
1. A Brother's Plea

Disclaimer: I do not own Trigun, nor do I own any of the characters associated with the show.  
  
Author's Note: Story context is in a strange format. In order to understand entire story, you must follow the chapters carefully. Enjoy the fic!  
  
~*~  
  
Chapter 1: A Brother's Plea  
  
'I'm going to die,' Vash told himself.  
  
Vash lie on the ground, suddenly aware of the grim reality he was in.  
  
His body was numb with pain; splintering pain, and his limbs felt as though they were made completely of lead.  
  
He feebly tried to move his hand, however, nothing happened. All he felt was twinge of pain, which was once merely a dull ache.  
  
'So this is what death feels like,' he wondered, closing his beautiful aquamarine eyes.  
  
He took a deep, shuddering breath, which hurt him greatly. He knew that he had finally been beaten.  
  
He looked over at his brother, who also lay dying. He clutched his chest as it rose and fell rapidly. His eyes widened, a twisted smile on his face.  
  
"I can't die," he said aloud, laughing to himself. "I'm not some spider whose life can be lost."  
  
He looked over at Vash, his eyes rolling madly.  
  
"But you, brother," he said spitefully, "you dared to aim at me, and now you're paying for it. You're going to die, Vash, and I couldn't be happier."  
  
"Stop it Knives," Vash said.  
  
"Why? You should be happy! You're going to see your pathetic Rem again. You should be thanking me for putting you out of your misery."  
  
Rem's face ran through Vash's memory. Her distant words echoed in his mind.  
  
'Take care of Knives for me, Vash,' she told him as her face faded from view.  
  
'No Rem! No!' said his own voice.  
  
The memory stung painfully in his mind, and as his last fleeting visions of Rem faded, he couldn't help but feel that he had failed her. "Rem," he gasped, tears rolling down his face and onto the blood covered ground.  
  
"Crying won't help you," his brother taunted. "You're a weakling, just like her!"  
  
"Shut up," Vash cried, clutched his gun, which he still held in his hand.  
  
"Oh, have I upset you?" he mocked, laughing hysterically.  
  
"SHUT UP!" Vash yelled, using what little strength he had to point the gun at his brother.  
  
"You're going to kill me are you?" Knives asked, smirking. "Well have at me!"  
  
"Don't make me kill you," he said through clenched teeth.  
  
"You don't have the guts to do it, but go ahead. Pull the trigger! Kill me why don't you!"  
  
"Stop it! Stop it! STOP IT!" Vash shouted, willing himself not to fire.  
  
"Come on you wimp! Kill me! That's all it would take, one little bullet! KILL ME NOW!"  
  
Vash's finger quivered on the trigger. His brain told him to do it, but his heart pleaded with him not to.  
  
"KILL ME NOW!" Knives yelled again.  
  
"I'm sorry Rem," Vash cried, as the gun discharged.  
  
  
  
So ends the first, and rather short, chapter of 'A Fighter's Spirit'. Madness had consumed Knives, forcing Vash to decide what to do. I ask for you now to review what you've read, and please, no flames. And please keep in mind that the next chapters will be longer. Thanks.  
  
Kawaii Youko ^_~ 


	2. Live and Let Live

Disclaimer: I still own nothing at all.  
  
Author's Note: That was a cliffhanger, huh? Sorry if I scared all of you Knives otaku, but rest assured, he isn't dead. So that being said, take a deep breath and read on.  
  
~*~  
  
Chapter 2: Live and Let Live  
  
Vash opened his eyes slowly. His head felt as though it was spinning, and everything was out of focus. He groaned, now aware of his pain.  
  
'I must have blacked out,' he thought, looking around the steadily sharpening room.  
  
He could hear humming, the tune sounded very familiar. It was coming from his left. He turned his head, trying to catch a glimpse of whoever it was making the sound.  
  
A girl came into view. She was seated on a stool, hunched over a bed. On the bedside table were medical supplies, mostly bandages and cleaning materials. Lying in the bed, was Knives.  
  
Vash could barely make out his brother's face, but from what he saw, he looked how Vash felt. His eyes were open, but he didn't seem to be aware of what was going on. He looked very tired, as though he hadn't slept in months.  
  
The girl placed a cloth on the table, then, picked up a needle and thread.  
  
"This may sting a bit," she said, threading the needle. This was the first time she had spoken; her voice was gentle and had a sense of optimism to it.  
  
Knives didn't reply, he merely blinked at her.  
  
"I'm just going to stitch up this wound on your chest, okay?"  
  
Again Knives said nothing. He closed his eyes and took a deep breath.  
  
"Do you have a name?" she asked, carefully closing the gash in his chest.  
  
"Knives," he replied, much to Vash's surprise.  
  
"Knives?" she said thoughtfully. "That's a name I've never heard before."  
  
She placed the needle back on the table and retrieved a bandage.  
  
"As soon as I wrap you up, you'll be finished," she said, helping Knives into a sitting position.  
  
While she wrapped the bandage around him, Vash was able to see some of the extent he had caused. Knives had several deep wounds on his chest and shoulders, which were now closed, as well as some less major injuries. Vash felt a pang of guilt.  
  
"All done," she said. "Would you like to lie back down now?"  
  
"Yes," he replied quickly, looking at her for the first time.  
  
With a little bit of effort, Knives was lying on his back, covers drawn up to his shoulders.  
  
"Please get some rest so that those wounds will have time to heal," she said, cleaning up the used materials and throwing them away.  
  
She turned to Vash, moving her stool closer to his bed. He quickly closed his eyes and pretended to be asleep.  
  
He heard her take a seat and opened his eyes just enough to see her. She was pale, and from what he could see, she looked like she was around twenty or so. She had golden-brown hair, which she had in a pony tail, and she had very kind eyes.  
  
Vash opened his eyes a little more, and heaved an almighty sigh.  
  
"Oh, you're awake," she said, smiling brightly. "I'm going to clean you up if that's all right."  
  
"That's fine," he said, looking into her eyes. "I usually don't have women so beautiful take care of me."  
  
She smiled yet again, drawing back his covers.  
  
"I'm glad you're feeling well enough to speak," she said. "That's a good sign."  
  
She began to hum once again, wiping Vash's injuries with a clean cloth.  
  
'I've never seen so many scars,' she thought. 'But he must not be in too much pain to be paying me compliments.'  
  
"So, may I ask you for your name?" he said, smiling at her.  
  
"Tira," she replied. "And yours?"  
  
"My name is Vash," he told her. "And I can see you've already met my brother, Knives."  
  
She nodded. "I figured such, since you look so much alike. You're both very handsome, you know."  
  
"So does that mean you'll go out with me?" Vash blurted out.  
  
'What a disgrace,' Knives thought, watching Vash flirt with her.  
  
Knives turned over in his bed and allowed himself to drift into a light sleep.  
  
  
  
Well, there you have it. Knives is alive and well, and Vash is acting like his usual self. I guess it takes more than bullet wounds and a concussion to keep our hero down.  
  
Kawaii Youko ^_~ 


	3. Nothing Short of Torture

Disclaimer: I own nothing from Trigun, nor do I know anything in general, so don't hurt me! Take your anger out on my muse! He's to blame!  
  
Yoko Kurama: Nani? I'm just an innocent bystander; I had nothing to do with this fic at all.  
  
Author's Note: So, how'd you like the last chapter? Did you love it? Hate it? Not finish because you lost interest? Well, cheer up, I promise this chapter is longer, better written, and quite a bit more interesting. Oh, and you may notice a bit of a jump between the chapters, but don't worry, it's intentional.  
  
And in case you couldn't guess, this is about a week later and she's preparing breakfast for everyone. Sorry, on to the chapter. ^^  
  
~*~  
  
Chapter 3: Nothing Short of Torture  
  
Tira looked up abruptly from the food she's been preparing for breakfast. She suddenly had an eerie feeling course through her. Her blood ran cold, the hair on the back of her neck stood on end. She could feel eyes leering at her, watching her every move. She placed the knife she was using to cut an orange down.  
  
The sound of footsteps reached her ears; and someone's loud breathing. Before she was able to turn around, she felt a strong hand touch her cheek; it turned her head to the side. She came face to face with a tassel haired Knives.  
  
His sky blue eyes were narrowed as if in suspicion, they flickered. A callous smirk lingered on his face; it sent a chill up her spine.  
  
"Knives?" her voice faltered.  
  
His smirk widened.  
  
He abruptly drew her close to him, catching her off guard. He pressed his hips sharply into hers, she screamed. She tried desperately to free herself from his grip, except he held her arms too tightly. Each time she would struggle, he would only pull her harder. She could feel his fingers digging deeper and deeper into her flesh every time she moved.  
  
Knives cast her backwards into the kitchen counter. While the counter top dug itself into her back, he ground himself into the front of her. He moved his hands to her shoulders and shoved her roughly into the cabinets.  
  
"Knives!" she gasped, struggling against his hold. "What do you think you're doing?!"  
  
He silenced her with a kiss. He bit her lower lip; he could feel her thrashing about, now more than ever, against him.  
  
She reached her hand out, searching for something to defend herself with. Her hand bumped the handle of the knife on the counter. It spun once in place before Tira was able to grasp it.  
  
Unfortunately, Knives was much quicker than she was. He snatched it out of her hand and pulled it away. He slowly released her lips.  
  
"I don't think so," he taunted, using his free hand to wave the knife in her face.  
  
Tira let out a whimper.  
  
"Why are you doing this to me?" she cried, finally daring to look him in the eye.  
  
"It's very simple," Knives replied, smiling coldly. "Even ones such as I have urges; strong urges that cannot be satisfied by looking alone."  
  
Knives used the blade to brush a piece of hair out of Tira's pale face. He could plainly see the fear in her eyes; he found it difficult not to grin.  
  
She looked deeply into his eyes, expecting for somewhat of an explanation to be found within them, but they were cold and detached.  
  
"Please stop it," Tira pleaded with him. "I ask you, please let go of me."  
  
He gently rubbed his thumb against her cheek. He moved as though to kiss her again, but stopped just short.  
  
"On second thought," he said, pulling away from her, "this can wait."  
  
He slowly backed away from her, letting the knife fall to the floor. He walked out of the room, laughing to himself.  
  
Tira stared after him, barely able to breathe. She let out a dry sob and slid down to the floor. She began to cry without restraint.  
  
The knife lie on the floor, just a few inches from her. It gleamed in the early morning light.  
  
Vash watched her cry from the doorway, questioning what he had just witnessed.  
  
  
  
Ha! I finally got around to writing the third chapter! I was on vacation, don't blame me. So what did you think? I know this fic is moving a bit fast, but as you can see, Knives has no self restraint, ne? I hope to post the next chapter soon, that is, IF I get good reviews! Ja matte ne!  
  
Kawaii Youko ^_~ 


	4. Salvation

Disclaimer: I own nothing. I do not own Trigun or any of the characters affiliated with it.  
  
Author's Note: What an opinionated bunch you are. Thank you for all of the reviews you've submitted and I'd like to apologize for not updating in so long. I hope you enjoy this much delayed chapter.  
  
~*~  
  
Chapter 4: Salvation  
  
Silvery, shimmering tears fell down Tira's troubled face. Not so much tears of pain, more so tears of confusion and fear. What had just happened to her? Slowly, she tried to put together the pieces.  
  
Knives.  
  
The name stood out in her mind. It seemed, given the prior experiences, his name was more than a hollow shell, it had meaning. With the sound or mere thought of it, a delicate chord in her subconscious was struck; fear. An inexplicable terror.  
  
Vash's hand quivered heavily on the doorframe.  
  
Knives.  
  
'Why brother, why?' Vash questioned in his mind.  
  
He had very well seen what had occurred, from a front row seat in fact. He had heard Tira's distressed sobs, her cries for help, yet he stood there, transfixed.  
  
'What could drive you to do such a terrible thing? What I ask?' his mind inquired, as though to Knives himself.  
  
A fleeting image of his brother's profile crossed Vash's mind. The eyes were closed, a smirk drawn on the lips. A low laugh began in his throat, slowly rising and escaping as maniacal laughter.  
  
Vash shuddered visibly. The piercing laugh sent a chill running up his spine.  
  
Turning his eyes on the shaken girl, his expression softened, though, his feelings remained the same.  
  
Hatred.  
  
He could do nothing to change what had happened, to that he was powerless, however, with one flourishing motion, he was seated before Tira.  
  
With a small whimper their eyes met. Slightly bloodshot from crying, Tira's eyes reflected his image.  
  
"V-Vash?" she questioned, staring.  
  
He nodded, slowly drawing her into his embrace. His hand instinctively went to the back of her head as she cried into his shoulder. A tear slowly fell down his face as he kissed the top of her head.  
  
"It'll be all right," he told her quietly, cooing to her.  
  
Gradually, she cried herself into a light sleep, still resting upon him.  
  
Down the hall stomped the second man.  
  
"I was so close!" Knives shouted, slamming the door to his and Vash's room closed. He took a seat atop his bed, his face in his hands. "That Neanderthal had to barge it!"  
  
He slowly raised his head to level his eyes with the mirror hanging on the wall. His sky blue eyes flickered maliciously.  
  
"No," he said, a smirk tugging at the corners of his mouth. "It is not over."  
  
His hand reached for the gun, which rest upon the bedside table. He grasped it firmly and held it in front of him, inspecting the workmanship. The black metal reflected beams of sunlight that streamed through the window.  
  
"This is far from over, brother," he said aloud, smirking more.  
  
Getting up from his seat on the bed, he silently crept down the hallway towards the kitchen. He reached the door frame, watching as Vash held the sleeping Tira. He grinned as he raised the gun, the barrel pointing at the back of Vash's head.  
  
With only slight hesitation, he pulled the trigger.  
  
  
  
And yep, yet another cliffhanger! *laughs evilly* By now you must know that some of these are on purpose. ^^;;  
  
This chapter was more of a perspective thing I guess. Kinda short, I know. Hope you enjoyed it none-the-less! I will try to make the next one longer.  
  
Also, my sincerest apologies about not updating in so long, I plan on doing them more often, really I do. *laughs nervously* Updates coming soon! Don't forget to review!  
  
Kawaii Youko ^_~ 


	5. Before His Eyes

Disclaimer: I don't own Trigun or any of the characters, never have, never will. =_= ;; They belong to Yasuhiro Nightow.  
  
Author's Note: Cliffy, cliffy, cliffy! Sorry you guys, I had to do that to you. ^^;; Here's the next chapter.  
  
Chapter 5: Before His Eyes  
  
The hammer of the revolver drew back and clicked. The air around the barrel of the gun heated as the bullet discharged, the smell of gun smoke filling the air. The deafening gunshot echoed in the room long after the bullet had been fired, resounding a thousand times over in an instant. Everything in existence seemed to have slowed or stopped completely in the moment it took for the bullet to hail upon its target; the inattentive blonde.  
  
Sound Life.  
  
The mesmerizing song drummed through Vash's mind, each note as hauntingly beautiful as the next. The pitch; ranging in various highs and lows, was perfect. However, it was a mere melody, lacking the harmony often offered by lyrics or a voice.  
  
Memories.  
  
Images of Vash's past, which were shroud in mystery and lies, filled his mind. They clouded his vision and dulled his senses.  
  
A dark haired woman stood before his eyes in numerous memories, humming the poignant tune. Her eyes, a russet color, were closed, a smile donned on her face.  
  
Rem Saverem.  
  
With a feeble effort, Vash raised his hand towards her. However, his body, it seemed, had gone rigid; immobile. As though watching a film of some sort, the images continued on, some having no relevance what so ever to reality. Just as the memory would become recognizable, it was gone, another already having replaced it.  
  
Project S.E.E.D.S.  
  
The place of both he and his brother's childhood flashed before his eyes. In the vision, Project S.E.E.D.S. was still in progress. In the cold storage room, a much younger version of himself and Rem exchanged words, though they were drown out by the song so cherished by his mentor.  
  
The scene jumped, going from the cold storage room to himself and Knives floating in the zero-G room of the ship. Vash spun slowly, his legs drawn up to his chest, tears filling his now solemn eyes. Knives, who appeared to be trying to comfort his somber brother, placed his hands lightly on Vash's shoulders, speaking to him in a kind tone.  
  
Just as Vash opened his mouth to respond, the scene changed yet again.  
  
The Recreational Room.  
  
An outdoor environment filled with lush plants crossed Vash's mind. A yellow butterfly no bigger than a child's hand was tangled in a spider web, struggling hopelessly against its tight hold. A dark gray spider approached it as Vash, Rem and Knives watched from a few feet away.  
  
As though deciding, Vash slowly reached out both hands towards the creatures. However, before he was able to reach either, a hand collided with the spider, ripping the web to shreds. Vash's aquamarine eyes traveled hastily up to his brother's face.  
  
With only a short conversation, Vash tackled his brother, forcing him to the ground. As he pinned Knives, the expression on the twin's face changes to that of shock.  
  
The scene ended there, fast forwarding to a fleeting image of a monitor, on which their ship is displayed. The escape pod shuddered as light flashed across the screen.  
  
Explosion.  
  
The images sped up, now running together more than ever. There was no true distinction between each memory, all blending into one.  
  
A massive beam of light shot out of a building, aimed towards the sky. July city disintegrated as the beam etched a hole on the surface of the fifth moon; Vash's angel arm having taken affect.  
  
Bodies lay strewn across the ground, children and adults; all with looks of fright upon their faces. Their possessions are scattered about the area, now just debris left over from the catastrophe prior. Tears rolled down Vash's cheeks as he stood, staring at them.  
  
Mental pictures of his numerous fights flashed before his eyes, depicting various opponents, weapons and emotions. The faces of the Gun-Ho-Guns passed through his mind, left with their scars from battle.  
  
With a loud scream, breaking the song playing in the background, Vash's mind went completely blank, black clouding his mind, then slowly turning to light.  
  
Awakening.  
  
Tira stared down at Vash, her amethyst eyes slightly wide with anxiety. In her hand was clutched a tissue, her eyes slightly red from crying.  
  
"Vash?" she questioned, her voice slightly shaken.  
  
A surge of pain swept over him as he nodded slowly to her. His head throbbed heavily, his ears ringing very faintly.  
  
"W-what happened?" he asked, gritting his teeth slightly. "It feels like someone shot me."  
  
"Someone did shoot you," she said bluntly. She paused for a second and retrieved a small item from the bedside table. She held it up in front of him. "With a rubber bullet."  
  
He blinked, his hand going to his temple, which ached horribly. A bandage was wrapped tightly about it.  
  
"Then why does it feel like I just had a head on collision with a sand steamer?" he asked, wincing visibly.  
  
She fought back a smile. "Well, actually that's from when you fell over. You got a nasty little cut from the edge of the counter top," she told him, sitting down on the edge of his bed.  
  
He let out an exasperated sigh. "Figures."  
  
  
  
I told you I'd update soon! *smiles* So what did you think of the chapter? Mostly it was perspective and recalling memories, but I hope you enjoyed it!  
  
By the way, I realize that I didn't mention Knives' actions after shooting Vash, but don't worry, you'll find out soon enough what became of him. ^^ Remember to Review! Ja matte ne!  
  
Kawaii Youko ^_~ 


	6. Cold Steel and Chrome

Disclaimer: Okay, is my name Yasuhiro Nightow? No, I don't think so. Meaning, I don't own Trigun or any of its characters. Enough said there.  
  
Author's Note: I am EXTREMELY sorry about the lack of updates. I've been very busy with schoolwork and I've really, honestly, had no motivation to write, until now at least. I hope you enjoy this chapter and forgive me!  
  
Chapter 6: Cold Steel and Chrome  
  
Vash blinked slowly, consciously feeling his senses and his memories of the events prior returning to him. A feeling of lightheadedness followed, then, just as quickly, passed.  
  
Upon registration of the conversation, Vash paused suddenly.  
  
"Who?" he asked, abruptly looking up at the girl sitting on the edge of his bed.  
  
Tira turned her eyes on him with a small blink. "What?"  
  
"Who shot me?" he elaborated, his aquamarine eyes flickering slightly.  
  
The kind girl bit her lower lip and broke his gaze, not daring to look at him any longer. She simply lacked the heart to tell him that Knives, his very own brother, had aimed to kill him.  
  
~*~  
  
Recollection.  
  
A gleam in the gun's metallic surface shone as Knives applied pressure to the trigger. His finger quivered slightly as if in hesitation, though only for a moment. The rather calculated blonde's eyes darted apprehensively from his biological brother to his sibling, the jet black revolver clutched in his right hand.  
  
'Shall I fire?' he wondered in the split second it took for his decision to register in his mind.  
  
The second twin, Vash, sat, turned away from his brother. His back, which was exposed to Knives, shuddered every now and then, signifying his silenced sobs. The unconscious girl still sat, her arms draped loosely about the Humanoid Typhoon's shoulders.  
  
Knives was fighting a battle within himself, his outtake similar to the symbolism of the angel and the devil sitting atop his shoulders. Finally, after struggling against his subconscious, he carefully took aim and popped the hammer of the gun, sending the bullet hurtling at his brother.  
  
~*~  
  
Returning to the present state of reality, Knives let out a disenchanted sigh. Had it not been for that woman's meddling; that pitiful human's interference, his brother would now be dead. No longer would he be subjected to Vash's talks of love and peace, or of how the human race was a thing to be treasured, protected from the elements of this life and the next.  
  
Scattered about the floor were the rubber bullets, which had, unknown to Knives at the time, replaced his. His aim had been precise; his sights not off in the least, the hit; direct. If the bullets had been anything other than rubber, Vash the Stampede would no longer be in existence.  
  
'Yet again I've failed to complete my mission; to destroy the human race. But tell me; how can I with my brother's words corrupting my mind. They adulterate my thoughts, shatter my plans, and all together cause me distress,' Knives thought, his, at times, schizophrenic mind racing slightly.  
  
An image of Vash's face materialized within the darkness of his mind. True, it was the same man who, on so many occasions, had caused madness and utter mayhem, but something about his usually boisterous manner had changed; drastically. His eyes, which normally flickered with a childlike innocence, were somehow different. They had taken on a sunken look, the luster, gone. A frown he wore upon his face, so unlike his characteristic grin. Even his hair, it seemed, was displaying his all together somber disposition.  
  
Within the darkness; the never ending pitch black expanse, the two men's eyes met. They stared into one another's eyes for what seemed like an eternity and longer. Vash's expression remained the same throughout this time, never changing in the least. His eyes were boring into Knives', causing him to shift nervously.  
  
'Don't look at me that way brother,' Knives stated in his mind, masking his feelings of discomfort. 'I can't stand the way you stare at me so. It's as if you're looking into me, almost through me as though I'm transparent. How can you force me to question myself; my morals, my choices, with only a simple gaze? No more than the look found within your eyes.'  
  
Still Vash's dismal face lingered there, his once tender eyes were now cold; detached and unfocused. The look in them proceeded to become gradually worse; now hollow in appearance, as though belonging to a corpse. It very nearly sent a chill up Knives' spine. He narrowed his eyes, staring deeper into the image of his brother's.  
  
Was the expression upon his face merely misread? Could it actually be scorn in place of despondency? Yes, Vash was looking down upon him, as well as his actions. That was the only explanation.  
  
'If only I could rid myself of this burden, this dead weight that I once mistook for my brother. He is nothing more than a human in my eyes now,' Knives contemplated, feeling a surge of hatred course through his entire body. 'If he wishes to protect them, those pathetic pieces of filth, may he die by their side and suffer the same fate as they will. He will suffer through eternal torment, such interminable agony; oh how I will relish at his cries for help. He will whine and beg, tell me to spare the humans and let them free; how I can picture it now!'  
  
An icy smirk came to his slightly pale face as he imagined the pain, the torture; the bliss he would experience while watching the whole grisly scene.  
  
'His pain shall be my ecstasy, and his screams will be music to my ears. Such will be his fate until the end of time.'  
  
~*~  
  
Well, too much delaying on my part. I apologize again for it. *bows* I know this chapter is yet ANOTHER cliffhanger. I'm really bad about doing that. ^^;; But as I think, my fic, my cliffs, just more for me to jump off of if I get bad reviews, right? ^____^  
  
Hope you liked it and remember to leave me nice, detailed reviews, that is, if you aren't too mad at me for the wait!  
  
Kawaii Youko ^_~ 


	7. Veiled Hope

Disclaimer: I don't own Trigun, if that changes, you will be the first people to know. ^-^;;  
  
Author's Note: Quanto a Dio! I'm so sorry for the looooooong wait! Blame school work, grounding, and bad luck in general (long story there) for the way delayed updates! I'm sooo sorry!  
  
Chapter 7: Veiled Hope  
  
Slowly, the suns settled beyond the horizon, wrenching the dusty land into obscurity. Darkness passed over the desolate plain, creeping along like a vast black shadow. Boulders and plateaus were silhouetted by the incandescent light from the moon, forming indistinct shapes against the grainy surface of the planet. Crickets chirped softly, their irksome yet calming lullaby filling the arid night air of the barren tract.  
  
Atop one of those elevated plains, sat a lone creature; a seemingly broken man. The pale moon like shone down from the heavens upon him, a kind glow engulfing his body. Downtrodden was his manner, as if mourning for an unseen entity, or remembering something from a former life.  
  
"I can remember," came his now weathered voice, speaking to the very night itself, "everything."  
  
A low howl of the wind was his only reply. Its mournful cry sent a tremor coursing through his entire being, traveling through every inch of his battered and beaten body.  
  
With a heart-wrenching sigh, he turned his grieving eyes upon his right arm. It rest casually upon his knee, several crimson streaked bandages bound tightly around it. The off-white cloth was frayed and tattered, as though having survived a thousand bitter winters. A single, loose thread hung from its intricate woven surface, swaying lifelessly in the dry desert wind.  
  
Again the man looked away. His normally vibrant eyes were sullen, dark circles having formed beneath them. It was true; the Stampede hadn't slept in days; not since that woe-be-gone day. Memories and a strong feeling of bereavement swept over him.  
  
~*~  
  
Reminiscence.  
  
Words were no longer needed in that brief moment, perhaps simply because there isn't much one can say to a man whose brother attempted to murder him.  
  
Tira sat still, ever poised upon the edge of this very man's bed. However, her gaze was not on his face; nor was it on Vash in general; her eyes were focused on the floor.  
  
Several minutes of awkward silence passed; each second feeling like a minute, every minute feeling like an hour. Finally it seemed; Vash's voice had returned to him.  
  
"It's funny," he began, a smile faintly tugging at the corners of his lips.  
  
"How is it in any way funny?" Tira questioned, at last daring to look him in his eyes.  
  
The Humanoid Typhoon placed a hand to his chin, looking thoughtful. "More ironic, really," he corrected.  
  
Tira, visibly confused, raised an eyebrow at the lean gunman. "Would you care to tell me what you could find so amusing after realizing you were nearly killed?"  
  
"That's just it," he replied, giving into his steadily growing smile. "I realize I should probably be worrying about the situation at hand, but there is something else currently occupying my mind."  
  
He paused for a moment, as though contemplating what he planned to say. "You," he answered finally.  
  
~*~  
  
Vash smiled at that memory; the first smile he'd worn in days. It looked almost unnatural on his morose features. The deadened look in his pale aquamarine eyes seemed to flicker, and fade, though, if only just a little. He almost felt like his old self again; that flamboyant and carefree character he so vaguely remembered, instead of the fallen man he had become.  
  
A bit of colour seemed to return to his ashen face, his eyes once again possessing that warm, caring glow. And he laughed.  
  
He actually laughed!  
  
The sound rang out in the rolling plain, shattering the irrational tranquility of the night. It seemed to reach the heavens themselves, so loud and crisp, the angels could hear.  
  
Angels.  
  
The laugh died away, becoming a mere chuckle in the lone man's throat, a dull rumble of reverberating joyous sounds. As the laugh diminished, his smile did as well.  
  
Angels.  
  
He gradually brought his eyes to meet the endless black expanse above him, extending up into the heavens. In the corners of those benevolent eyes, lingered silvery tears; shimmering liquid crystals of realized sorrow. The stung the man's eyes as they silently rolled down his cheeks. Is that what they had become? Celestial creatures of heavenly grace, looking down on him and this forsaken land?  
  
A soft, muffled whimper managed to escape Vash's dry lips.  
  
"I killed them," he muttered, then, shouting into the night for all of the world to hear; "I killed them!"  
  
His mind began to regress, images of the recent past blaring in his eyes; shrill screams echoing in his tormented mind. He crumbled; both emotionally and physically, collapsing to the ground.  
  
Hysterical sobs broke free, filling the world with his shrieks of pain and guilt.  
  
"Please! Make them stop!" he cried, cradling his head between his rough and weather-beaten hands. "MAKE IT STOP!"  
  
The memories continued on, ignoring his desperate pleas for mercy; a seemingly endless cycle of burning turmoil, each becoming more real than the last.  
  
~*~  
  
"Run Tira!" Vash shouted, a look of uncontrollable fear filling his eyes.  
  
Before him stood an enraged Knives, his black revolver clutched tightly in his right hand. A cold, drawn smirk was upon his dour face, his pale blue eyes flickering in malicious delight.  
  
"Run," Vash hollered again, doing his best to usher Tira out of the room. "Get away from here!"  
  
Knives let out a maniacal laugh, shaking his head in disbelief. "You just don't get it do you Vash?" he asked, his smirk growing ever more sinister. "I guess I'll just have to show it to you then, brother."  
  
At these last words, Knives raised his left hand and snapped his fingers. The top of Vash's revolver shot off, ricocheting off the wall and falling to the floor. Inside, a spinning action began, encircling the gun and a portion of the Stampede's arm in a ball of electrifying light.  
  
Pain; white hot pain consumed Vash, his right arm beginning to contort and conform into something new. It became elongated; coming to a flattened point at the end. Where his shoulder should have been, sprouted a mass of long, white feathers; similar to those of a giant bird.  
  
Letting out numerous yelps of pain, Vash attempted to aim the massive weapon; his 'Angel Arm', at the aforementioned foe. Small spheres of light had begun to form at the enormous barrel of the arm, re-arranging themselves to create an immense beam of concentrated light.  
  
With a final, deafening yell of anguish, the colossal energy erupted from the Humanoid Typhoon's severely mutated and deformed arm.  
  
The now sky blue beam of destructive light shot up, splintering the roof; sending debris hurtling in all directions.  
  
Repeat Apocalypse.  
  
~*~  
  
The blonde gunman's relentless sobs eventually faded to a faint choking sound. He lay on the infertile ground, his fist balled up rigidly in his fit of hysterics.  
  
His shimmering eyes traveled to his right arm; the very same arm that had betrayed him twice before. His eyes narrowed to malevolent slits at the sight of the God-forsaken limb.  
  
With a swift and hasty action, the bandages lay in a crumbled heap on the ground, his accursed arm exposed to the world. The man examined the arm, a look of intense hatred lingering in his eyes.  
  
Cold sweat glistened on his slightly miscoloured arm, giving his skin a rubbery appearance. Long, jagged scars were embedded deep in his clammy flesh, dried blood caking about the edges. New scars were clearly distinguishable from the old; the recent having taken on a slight green tinge.  
  
Vash let out a frustrated cry, before hoisting himself sluggishly to his feet. He wearily trudged toward the verge of the plateau, and towards several small mounds at the base of the uprising. His feet screamed out in protest with every laboured step he took. Without even the slightest hesitation, he stepped off of the edge of the ridge, haphazardly skidding down towards the gravel-strewn ground.  
  
With a less than graceful landing, the stampede lay on the rough, rocky soil. Wincing heavily, his body battered and bruised, he hauled himself in front of the mounds, then, fell to his knees.  
  
For a time he sat in solemn silence, trapped in a pestilential prison, with seemingly no escape. The sorrow filled man stared into the oblivion, his ancient yet timeless face softening.  
  
Graves.  
  
"Knives; brother," Vash muttered, his hand resting atop the first miniature hill. "I-I never meant for any of this to h-happen, Knives."  
  
The distant howl of a coyote could be heard in the distance, growing in volume with every second it perpetuated.  
  
"G-good-bye, brother."  
  
Taking a deep, shuddering breath, he shifted his attention to the second grave. A number of pearly tears streaked his face as he ran a hand through his unkempt hair.  
  
"My s-sweet Tira," he choked out, not bothering to wipe the tears from his grieving eyes. "Please f-forgive me for t-the hurt I've p-put you through. I've failed t-to p-protect you, and for t-that, I do n-not ask for a second chance. I d-don't deserve it. R-rest in peace, and m-maybe we'll s-see each other again; even if only in our d-dreams."  
  
The torn man chocked back muffled sobs as he stared blankly at the third; and final grave. However, this one was different from the others; somehow hallow.  
  
In place of a body, there was simply a vermilion coat inside; frayed and slashed into shreds. Pieces of it were melted and remolded into new, disfigured bits. The steely black buttons were missing, most likely lost the night the lives of the people he cared most about.  
  
Though, this coat was here for a reason. Buried along with this dejected outfit; this man's traveling coat he'd wore all so often, were all of Vash the Stampede's remaining hopes, and his veiled dreams.  
  
  
  
;~; I was seriously crying when I wrote out this chapter. It being the last one and all, I couldn't help but get a bit emotional. Yes, this IS the last chapter, I'm almost sorry to say.  
  
I hope that you enjoyed the story as much as I did and leave me lavish reviews to let me know what you thought of this. I'm not sure whether or not I have the whole angst thing down yet, but I'm working on it. Thank you for reading 'A Fighter's Spirit'.  
  
Kawaii Youko ^_~ 


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